As I approach my 46th birthday, I find myself reflecting on a poignant truth: this is the age my mother was when she passed away from premenopausal breast cancer. At the time, I was just 19, the eldest of her two children and her only daughter. The years since have been a journey without her, filled with significant moments such as my wedding at 23 and the births of my four children by the time I was 30. Throughout it all, my mother has been absent, leaving me to navigate life’s challenges without her guidance, support, or love. My father was largely out of the picture early on, so I relied on the memories of my mother, who has served as my guiding star.
My mother was an extraordinary woman—an accomplished filmmaker and writer with a vibrant personality, a powerful presence, and an inspiring intellect. She was a trailblazer who taught me to face my fears head-on, despite her own battles with depression mirroring my struggles. The bold independence and humor she embodied have shaped who I am as a mother and a woman. While her absence is a constant reminder of what I have lost, I often find comfort in the ways I see her reflected in my life.
A Transformative Phase
Currently, I am navigating a transformative phase: I’ve recently remarried after a divorce in my 30s, and my blended family of teenagers is at various stages of growing up and becoming independent. They rely on me for support, advice, and often, financial assistance. Yet, at times, this parenting phase feels thankless. My menstrual cycle has become unpredictable, and while I still feel beautiful, I am acutely aware that time is fleeting. My new husband, a widower who has been single for years, struggles to adjust to our new life together, often using “I” and “me” instead of “we” and “us,” which leads to tension between us. I cherish our love, yet creating a new life together feels overwhelming when we both carry the weight of our pasts.
Despite feeling incredibly grateful, I also feel adrift and unsure of what comes next—caught in the mundane tasks of life like college applications and grocery shopping, but longing for moments of peace and clarity. I wrestle with existential thoughts: Will my children grow into successful adults? Will my new marriage flourish? How can I ensure I’ll witness my grandchildren? The realization of turning 46, the age at which my mother passed, feels like a significant moment—a reminder of how time has slipped away from us.
The Weight of a Milestone
This milestone carries a weight that many of us can relate to, yet I find it hard to believe that it will bring the freedom or revelation some speak of. While I anticipate my birthday, I can’t shake the notion that my feelings of uncertainty might be tied to this milestone. My understanding of what it means to be 46 is shaped by memories of my mother, and as I step into this age, I realize her guidance has become irrelevant. She was once ahead of me, but now she will be behind me, forever frozen in time at 46.
My mother also remarried at 45, just a year before she died. I often ponder what her second marriage would have looked like. Would it have stood the test of time? I never had the chance to learn from her how to navigate this new chapter of my life. In truth, her absence as a role model is a double-edged sword; while it frees me to forge my own path, it also leaves me feeling lost. After her death, I clung to her memory, and I think it hindered my ability to fully embrace my own journey. In my first marriage, I often felt a sense of inevitability about divorce because of her experience.
Reflections on Motherhood
At 19, I was still in college when I lost her, much like my eldest daughter, Lily, is now. My relationship with Lily is reminiscent of the bond I shared with my mother: close yet marked by a necessary distance as she approaches adulthood. I find immense joy in her growth, but I also feel anxious about our future relationship. Will she reach out when she needs me? Will I be there to witness her milestones? I often wish I could call my mother for advice, and it’s painful to think about what I’ve missed.
The absence of my mother looms heavily, making it difficult to envision how my relationship with Lily will evolve. Will I be present at her wedding? Will I hold my grandchildren? My mother never aged in my eyes; I wonder if I will grow old gracefully or not. These questions illustrate how much I still carry her with me, preventing me from fully embracing my own identity. Nonetheless, I am actively seeking to chart my own course.
A Solitary Journey
Some might see my musings as trivial, but it’s easy to say that if you have parental figures to lean on. I look ahead, and it feels like a solitary journey. I know I have come this far on my own, yet this moment also evokes a sense of loss—the realization that I am moving on to a new chapter while my mother remains forever at this stage in her life.
In summary, as I approach the age my mother was when she passed away, I reflect on her absence and the impact it has had on my life. Navigating my new marriage and the challenges of parenting teenagers adds to my feelings of uncertainty. I often question what the future holds for my family and me, as the absence of my mother continues to shape my journey forward.